


Dami... an Wayne?

by Lizabeth_Shabow



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Mean Damian Wayne, Muslim Damian Wayne, OC-centric, POV Outsider, cryptid damian wayne, damian is an enigma, its for the outsider pov, supersons - Freeform, they are actually bfs damian just doesn't want that to be public knowledge, theyre jons friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizabeth_Shabow/pseuds/Lizabeth_Shabow
Summary: “Dami is so cool,” Jon said, collapsing onto the bench of the lunch table. Mark and Marissa pulled their lunches out of the way just in time for Jon to face plant into the vacated space.“What’d he do?” Mark asked, chewing on a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Marissa took a particularly vicious bite out of her celery.“He just is,” Jon sighed, talking to the table. Hannah and Marissa made eye contact over the table. This had been going on for over a month, everything Jon did had something about Dami thrown in. Dami is Muslim, Jon said in history when they were learning about world religions, Dami said that tomatoes are a fruit so you can’t convince me otherwise, he declared in the argument over that topic they’d had about a week ago, Dami said this book was good, but I don’t like it, when they were reading an excerpt in English.--Or, Jon's friends try to figure out who his secret boyfriend is.
Relationships: Jonathan Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 20
Kudos: 665





	Dami... an Wayne?

Jon was smiling at the math paper in front of him, pencil scribbling along fast enough to make the teacher stand from behind her desk and approach him. 

“Jon, are you taking this seriously?” she asked. Jon stopped solving the equation he was on and stared up at her flatly. Marissa, at the seat beside him, kept her head down but her ears open. Jon usually finished in the last half of test-takers—while she usually finished in the first—but he was already on the second page. It had only been five minutes. 

“Of course, Ms. Armstrong, can’t you see I’m focused?” Jon gave her a look like she had asked him if the sky was blue, trying to mask it behind that farm boy smile that charmed him out of so much trouble. Marissa liked to think that she knew him well enough by now to know when he was faking. 

Ms. Armstrong couldn’t do much else without sounding demeaning to Jon’s intelligence, so she returned to her desk. When Jon turned his test in six minutes later, she didn’t do more than glare at him. 

Marissa finished her test soon after that and ran after him since it was the last period of the day and they were allowed to leave when they were done. He was sitting on the front steps of the school, staring down at his phone with a smile on his face. 

“Kent!” She came to a stop beside him and Jon clicked his phone shut immediately. Suspicion welled in her gut. 

“Who was that?” she asked, almost toe to toe with him. Jon plastered on the fake farm boy smile and stepped away from her. 

“Dami,” he answered cryptically. Marissa racked her brain, trying to think of any Dami’s that went to their school. It was small and she couldn’t think of anyone. 

“Whatever, you suck at math. How’d you get through that test so fast? Question six slowed  _ me _ down, it should have stumped you.” She was aware she was being a bit cruel, but she wanted answers and Jon had a habit of dodging questions like he breathed. 

Jon winced and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Okay, first of all, ouch. That was rude.” Marissa had enough self-awareness to admit that, but she didn’t offer more of an apology than to shrug one shoulder half-heartedly. “And Dami explained it to me last night.” 

That name again. Dami. Who was this kid? 

“Who?” she asked, shifting the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Jon rolled his eyes. 

“My friend, he’s pretty awesome,” Jon said. Marissa raised a brow. 

“Then why were you smiling at your phone like you were texting a pretty girl?” 

Jon’s lips drew back in a snarl, but it was gone as quick as it came. He looked down at the ground so his bangs covered his eyes and Marissa knew she had lost him. 

“Shut up, Marissa. You can be a dick sometimes, you know that?” 

Marissa did, so she backed off for now. There would be plenty of time to weasel out information later. 

* * *

Green notebooks, green pens, a green backpack. Jon was slowly drifting from his red, white, and blue theme to adopt a new color. 

“What’s up?” Mark gestured vaguely to Jon’s whole person, namely to the green pen behind his ear and the green solid-color tee shirt peeking around his jacket. Jon tilted his head to the side. 

“What?” He asked, scratching his hair and dislodging the pen behind his ear. He spun it between his fingers. 

“That!” Mark pointed at the pen. Jon’s brows furrowed and Hannah sighed. 

“He’s asking why the sudden obsession with green,” she supplied, trying to save all of them from Jon’s famous temper. All of them knew who his mom was, and had read some of her most passive-aggressive articles, but Jon could best even her sometimes. 

Jon looked at the pen in his hands and then lifted his eyes to meet Mark’s. “It’s Dami’s favorite color.” 

Marissa, who had previously been typing on her phone, almost broke her neck with how fast she whipped her head up. Hannah took a step toward Mark in surprise. 

“Who’s Dami?” Mark asked, shifting to cover Hannah’s shoulders with his arm. A small smile broke the edges of Jon’s lips and he twirled the pen again. 

“My friend,” he said. He stuck the pen in his pocket and said, “So are we going to that movie tonight or not?” 

Hannah made a mental note to ask Marissa what was up, but put it in the back of her mind for now. 

* * *

“Dami is so cool,” Jon said, collapsing onto the bench of the lunch table. Mark and Marissa pulled their lunches out of the way just in time for Jon to face plant into the vacated space. 

“What’d he do?” Mark asked, chewing on a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Marissa took a particularly vicious bite out of her celery. 

“He just  _ is _ ,” Jon sighed, talking to the table. Hannah and Marissa made eye contact over the table. This had been going on for over a month, everything Jon did had something about Dami thrown in.  _ Dami is Muslim, _ Jon said in history when they were learning about world religions,  _ Dami said that tomatoes are a fruit so you can’t convince me otherwise _ , he declared in the argument over that topic they’d had about a week ago,  _ Dami said this book was good, but I don’t like it _ , when they were reading an excerpt in English. 

“Okay, but what did he  _ do _ ?” Mark pressed. Sometimes Jon needed a bit of a push or he just babbled nonsense about the color of his hair for hours. 

“I spent the night at his house last night,” Jon said, never mind that it was a Wednesday, “And he showed me how to take apart a switchblade.” 

Jon’s friends had come to two conclusions after listening to Jon word vomit about Dami so much. One, Jon spent exactly half his time being in awe of him and exactly half wanting to rub his face in the dirt out of annoyance. Two, they weren’t sure what to think about Dami’s choice in activities. Two weeks ago, they had had lunch while sitting on a cow’s back and now Jon was learning about switchblades. Everything about Dami was contradictory.

Mark patted his back. “That’s pretty cool, man,” he said genuinely. 

* * *

“Why do you look so…” Marissa waves her pencil at him, head in one hand, “dead?”

They had their desks pushed together in as close to a circle as they could get for the study hall the teacher had given them. Jon had been staring at the same chemistry question for close to ten minutes now. 

He lifted his eyes, with bags the size of Metropolis weighing them down, and said, “Dami fell asleep on my lap last night, I couldn’t just  _ move _ .” 

“Uh, couldn’t you have just slept too?” Mark asked, flipping the page of his history book. 

“I was sitting up,” Jon refuted. 

“Lean back?” Hannah suggested.

“No, no, you don’t understand.” He shook his head, looking equal parts denying and trying to shake off sleep. “Dami is like a  _ crazy _ light sleeper. He wakes up if you so much as shift, it’s insane.”

“—ly annoying, it seems,” Marissa scoffed, reaching over to Jon’s paper and scribbling in the answer as best she could upside down. It looked pretty close to Jon’s handwriting with how messy it was and he smiled gratefully. 

“Yeah, honestly, sometimes.” Jon looked at the next question with the eyes of someone who had just watched their pet die. 

“These textbooks are useless,” Hannah mumbled, also working on chemistry, slipping her phone out from underneath the desk and typing the worksheet question into the search bar. Jon made a noncommittal noise and flipped through his notebook, apparently finding the answer.

Marissa peered over the awkward gap in the middle of the desks at the suspiciously neat handwriting of the notebook. 

“Who wrote that?” she asked, only a little accusing. Jon rolled his eyes. 

“Dami.” 

“Damn, he’s got pretty handwriting,” Mark commented. Jon smiled. 

“I know. It’s annoying,” Jon said. Hannah hummed.

“Wouldn’t that be something you like about another person?” She scribbled the answer Google gave her onto the line and hoped for the best. 

“Not when that person never lets you hear the end of it.” Jon scoffed, flipping through the notebook to find the next answer. 

“How come he just lets you take his notebooks?” Marissa questioned sharply. Hannah stepped on her foot and shot her a look. Marissa sat back in her seat and crossed her arms. 

Jon rolled his eyes. “Cause these textbooks suck and if I don’t get at least Bs I can’t hang out with him.” 

“So he just lets you steal them?” Mark asked, incredulous. He didn’t even try to mask his envy. 

“Yeah,” Jon said, like it made perfect sense. The enigma of Jonathan Kent, as it would seem. 

* * *

“Jon, you’re up,” Mark slapped his back. Hannah and Marissa followed behind them, hair freshly braided when they had extra time in their shared last period. 

Bafflement spread over Jon’s face for a long moment until Hannah took pity on him. 

“Sleepover?” she reminded. 

“Oh,” Jon said, “ _ Oh _ .” 

“What’d you do?” Marissa asked. Jon didn’t answer, instead yanking his phone out of his pocket like it was spitting answers to their upcoming chemistry final.

“Hey, so, I made a mistake,” Jon said into the phone. The other three looked on quizzically. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Anyway, it’s my turn for sleepover night.” A pause, “Yeah those ones.” A pause, a sigh. “Yeah, I know. So on Saturday then?” A pause. “I’m sorry, I’ll see you then.”

“Who was that?” Marissa asked, circling in front of Jon like a vulture over a carcass. Jon seemed to think of the same comparison and drew his shoulders up. 

“Dami,” he said. Mark lost his mind. 

“That was the infamous Dami I was listening to you talk to and I didn’t even get an introduction?” He put a hand over his chest, “I’m hurt, Kent, I’m hurt.”

“Whoops,” Jon said, sounding entirely unapologetic. 

“What have you told him about us?” Marissa had her eyes on the prize and she wasn’t about to let Mark’s dramatics get in her way. 

“Only good things,” Jon lied. He didn’t even bother trying to be sincere. 

Marissa glared at him, but Jon just smiled. 

“Any new games for us, Kent?” Mark deflected the tension, shoving Marissa gently to the side so she wasn’t walking backward in front of Jon anymore. 

“Yeah, actually, Dami sent me a copy of Cheese Vikings, it’s his favorite game. He said that I need to practice more if I want a chance at beating him and I said—“

* * *

Marissa, Mark, and Hannah were waiting for Jon in front of the school. He was behind getting yelled at by Mr. Smith about paying attention in class. They were sitting on the front steps doing what everyone else was doing—staring at the boy who had been dropped off in a limo and was dressed in cashmere and an infinity scarf, looking like he had walked off the cover of a fashion magazine. He was leaning against the wall of the school and typing on his phone. 

None of the kids tried to approach him, and he seemed content to ignore all of them. But who was he there for? 

“Even his hair is perfect,” Hannah complained, leaning onto Mark’s shoulder.  He huffed in agreement.

“He looks familiar,” the boy said. Marissa hummed, looking closer. She couldn’t tell much around the sunglasses on his face other than he was stunningly handsome. 

“I think so too,” she said, about to text Jon where the hell he was at. 

Just then, Jon came running out of the building, almost bowling them over. 

“Hey, sorry, he tried to tell me I was cheating—“ Jon babbled, and then abruptly trailed off like he had slammed into a wall. The rich boy had put his phone down and was walking toward them. 

“Dami!” Jon yelled, launching himself over the stair railing and sprinting toward the boy. Suddenly the handsome stranger had an armful of gangly farm boy but he didn’t even lose his balance, like this sort of thing was normal. By then, they were close enough that Jon’s friends could hear his response. 

“Hello, Jon. I arrived early and Lois suggested I walk home with you from school instead of waiting at the house,” he said. Marissa’s jaw hit the ground. 

“Damian…” Mark trailed, brow worked together in obvious concentration. 

“ _ Wayne _ ?” Marissa hissed. “Your secret boyfriend is  _ Damian Wayne _ ?” 

Jon immediately tried to struggle out of Dami’s— _ Damian’s _ — arms but the smaller boy tightened his grip. 

“Boyfriends?” His voice was icy cold. 

“Nope, didn’t say that, they came to their own conclusions.” 

Damian grunted and let Jon down. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and his pretty mouth wrinkled in disgust. 

“Tim?” Jon asked, falling in step with him as they left the school. 

“Yes,” Damian hissed, muting the call. 

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” Hannah piped up, getting over the shock the fastest because, unlike Marissa and Mark, she didn’t pay attention to top celebrities. 

“I know who you are,” Damian waved his hand dismissively. Jon sighed. 

“Marissa, Mark, Hannah, this is Dami,” Jon said. 

“Do not call me that,” Damian warned. 

“Do not call him that, he’s a grumpy pants,” Jon agreed. Damian wrinkled his nose but Jon beamed. Damian rolled his eyes and, oh, that’s where Jon had gotten it from. 

“I think I need to sit down,” Marissa said. 

“Go ahead, you will fit in among the dirt,” Damian said. 

“Don’t listen to him, he’s cranky because Tim won’t stop calling him about Arabic translations,” Jon soothed. Damian clicked his tongue but didn’t argue. 

“I think I need to sit down too,” Mark said. Damian opened his mouth but Jon slapped his hand over it. 

“Nope, no meany pants in the house,” Jon said as they assembled on the porch. Jon removed his hand but lifted his finger when Damian opened his mouth. 

Hannah didn’t see any visible change in Damian’s face, but Jon seemed to and visibly brightened. “Anyway, mom made cookies. Who wants some?” 

There was nothing to make kids forget about a celebrity being dropped in their midst like a batch of Lois Lane’s cookies. 


End file.
